


Stolen Moments in Camden

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-13
Updated: 2005-11-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: For now, all they have are stolen moments in Camden





	Stolen Moments in Camden

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to my [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=florahart)[**florahart**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/florahart/) for the beta  
Happy belated birthday to [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=rosesanguina)[](http://www.livejournal.com/users/rosesanguina/)**rosesanguina**. Anj, only for you (and a very small handful of others) would I even attempt to write Draco/Harry! I hope you enjoy it and I’m sorry it’s late! ♥  


* * *

The ten minute walk from the West Hampstead tube station to Holmdale Road seemed to take twice as long as usual. It was pouring down rain, and he couldn’t even use a charm to keep himself dry so Harry was completely soaked by the time he reached his destination. He pulled his coat tighter as he stared at the window of the downstairs duplex, his glasses dripping with rain. He took a quick glance around to make sure he’d not been followed before looking at the window once again.  
  
The War might have been over two years ago, but he knew there were still supporters of Voldemort lurking in the shadows as well as aurors who didn’t trust him despite his success in the last battle. It wouldn’t be safe to let his guard down, to decide they were no longer suspicious of him, or to carry on without caution and constant vigilance. Although, Harry sincerely doubted Moody intended for him to learn that lesson in regards to what he did the days he carefully made his way into Muggle Camden.  
  
The drape twitched and he saw a glimpse of blond hair. The rain was worse than it had been when he’d left the tube station so he was glad to hurry up the few stairs to find the door unlocked. He stepped inside and shook off his coat. The flat was warm, thankfully, and he quickly hung his coat to dry. A few words removed the glamour he always assumed shortly before leaving the flat he shared with Hermione in Diagon Alley.  
  
If anyone was watching, they saw a young man with light brown hair that was sometimes seen escorting Hermione to various restaurants and functions. She was the only person who knew about his secret, of course, and he was lucky she trusted him enough to help him avoid notice. If she ever became seriously involved with someone, he’d have to change this but, for now, she seemed content to focus on her Mediwitch training so he could basically come and go as he pleased with no one the wiser.  
  
Harry walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, where he could smell roast and possibly hot bread. When he stepped inside, he found Draco cutting carrots and plopping them into a pan. The blond looked up and smiled slightly but didn’t speak before he went back to making dinner. Harry leaned against the door frame and silently watched.  
  
They rarely spoke. During the last days of the War, Draco had been cursed with a variety of things that Hermione hadn’t even recognized, resulting in his face permanently bearing scars that could never be healed and vocal cords that hurt him if he tried to use them too often. He had a limp and favored his right leg, and Harry had traced more than two dozen scars on his back and arse during languid days spent in bed.  
  
When he was younger, Harry would never have imagined Draco Malfoy living amongst Muggles, but survival instincts seemed to change people. If you were wanted from the Ministry for acts committed during the Second War Against Voldemort and you were also wanted by Voldemort’s supporters for betraying them and their Lord, you adapted quickly and found a nice flat in Camden surrounded by the very creatures you once sought to destroy. Of course, he’d also never imagined having any sort of relationship with Draco beyond that of adversary, so the idea that Draco was his lover was even more shocking.  
  
They needed each other. He didn’t know if it was love, didn’t even really care, but he felt settled, somehow, when he was with Draco. It was comfortable, and he craved it more and more these days. It had begun as obsession and turned into lust, and now, well, he wasn’t quite sure what it was beyond need, if anything. Draco never asked him to come back, never asked him to stay, and Harry never asked him if he wanted more, never asked for more than Draco was willing to give.  
  
“Stew,” Draco rasped softly to distract him from his thoughts.  
  
Harry pushed away from the door and walked into the small kitchen. He opened his mouth and let Draco put the spoon inside. It was too salty, the meat didn’t taste completely done, and the potatoes were overcooked. He swallowed and ran his tongue along his teeth as he resisted the urge to make a face. His hand raised to brush long wisps of hair away from the raw scars on Draco’s cheek, and he let his knuckles gently trace the wounds.  
  
He wondered if anyone would find them if they just left. Hermione could help, arrange new identities, and they could move to New York or Sydney or some other large city where they could get lost in the crowd. They could simply be Harry and Draco instead of Savior and Death Eater. Maybe one day, he’d finally get the courage to make the suggestion, to just leave everything behind and start over somewhere else. Until then, he was stuck with clandestine meetings and stolen moments in Camden. His thumb traced Draco’s lips and he smiled as his free hand pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “It tastes delicious, Malfoy,” he said before he leaned over and kissed him.  
  
The End


End file.
